


change of paint

by tyuniehops



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Artist Choi Beomgyu, Choi Beomgyu-Centric, Comfort Huening Kai, Hurt Choi Beomgyu, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but i guess there's the good sides too, the pains of being an artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29951211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyuniehops/pseuds/tyuniehops
Summary: Mindless, Beomgyu nods, letting himself fall deeper into his feeble state and indulge further into Hyuka's tiny specks of beauty—the tiny grip of his fingers around his nape, the gentle and careful manner of him leading the elder's tongue.Beomgyu has adored the little things.Until he eventually doesn't.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Huening Kai
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	change of paint

**Author's Note:**

> here's the twitter post ! (it comes with a lil edit h)
> 
> https://twitter.com/tyuniehops/status/1369476430128508931?s=19

A drizzle of beats volumes up as Beomgyu further follows Hyuka, who has already stood in front of the cashier while he is yet to open the door towards the building.

  


Taking his first steps, Beomgyu is quick to fuss, "Kai, I told you I'm busy." He rests his hefty arm on the counter, leaning on to his side with eyes steady on watching Kai—writing down their names with lips curved as he responds, "It's just this one time hyung! Didn't I tell you that this cafe is pretty?"

  


Before following the instinct to roll his eyes, Beomgyu turns and shifts his focus to the room decor—the lights shed a faint gleam that doesn't hurt his vision, nor hinders its purpose, the seats were made of furnished sofas, and the additional accessories completed the modest mood. Beomgyu shrugs, "I guess.. but couldn't you have visited on your own?"

  


They make their way to a space nearly at the edge of the cafe, where they sit next to the extended glass window and let their eyes gaze upon the view filled with buildings and pacing individuals. Kai shakes his head with a smile, "I thought it would be much better if we go together. And besides, we haven't gone on a date for a while now."

  


Beomgyu lowers his head, heart heavy at the crawling guilt that slips within.

  


* * *

  


Back in Kindergarten, Beomgyu never bothered to join the other kids with their energetic sessions of jumping in joy and screaming complaints, nor did he play along with their immature antics and made an effort to form bonds—instead, he kept his hands busy with one slim piece of wood and blank leveled out pages.

  


His teachers would constantly encourage him to "Have fun!" and "Join the others!", though Beomgyu's indifference eventually left them no choice but to leave him to himself.

  


Even when Elementary came, no games and toys were to be found on his desk. Beomgyu had only relied on his notebooks as his source of entertainment, its surfaces piled up against each other, with several pages filled with clumsy rubber leftovers and smudged up charcoal.

  


Despite being bashful, Beomgyu had tried asking his mother to buy him new sets since the spaces on his notebooks were running out—though, Beomgyu really didn't need to worry, his mother was more than ready to give him a smile, complying to his wish. "You seem to be happy whenever you draw," she reasoned.

  


The curves of the cold glass unevenly fit around Beomgyu's palm, damp from discomfort, along with his legs that are vexing and restless underneath the table.

  


"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" Beomgyu questions as he attempts to snug into the sofa, lifting his hand to take a sip of his drink—the sweet pangs of green grape bleak on his tongue.

  


"Nothing, really. Do you?"

  


"No..."

  


With the silence peaking into their conversation, Kai is left to laugh, "Just relax hyung, I wanted to spend some time with you, not get into an interview."

  


Beomgyu knows that Kai has always taken his comfort into consideration, but his fingers resume to fidget on the straw. "This whole thing just feels weird, there's no way you just pulled me out here to stare outside and try out some drinks."

  


Kai's teeth are brought against the inner flesh of his cheek, "Well... there is another thing I wanted to do with you."

  


"And that is?" Beomgyu asks, his words barely audible in a whisper, yet Hyuka catches on to it.

  


"Do you see anything else around here?"

  


Having kept his head low, Beomgyu inadvertently stretches his neck and twists it at an angle where he can see the most part of the room: there were only a few people with them, some in pairs while most are alone, and though the sight of them doing work with their drinks is nothing out of the ordinary, Beomgyu looks more into their tables and comes to a realization.

  


He looks back at Kai with brows furrowed, "You're kidding me."

  


"But hyung! I wanted to try it out!"

  


"Do it on your own," Beomgyu crosses his arms. "I'm not painting."

  


Despite facing the window, he senses Kai's lips forming a frown. "Beomgyu hyung.. it's been some time since we last went on a date."

  


Beomgyu's heart sinks at the pained tone of his voice.

  


"It's only for today hyung. Can you... please do this with me?"

  


* * *

  


Amidst his High School years, Beomgyu's interest in making friends never really grew, and his passion for art only evolved into something even more profound—which caused the adults to worry for his well being, though Beomgyu didn't care, he found people annoying after all.

  


Questions of what he was drawing, how he does it, which part he'll do next: Beomgyu couldn't understand why someone as quiet as him could attract so much unwanted attention—he despises it, every last bit.

  


Which was why he had gotten himself ready for another earful at the beginning of the year, his back barely laid on the chair rail and ears itching while hearing the muddle of students around him. He curses himself for forgetting to bring his earphones.

  


"Hi!" A boy approaches him, his voice seemingly vivacious and loud—Beomgyu's shoulders momentarily quiver.

  


Now standing next to him, the boy giggles, "I'm Huening Kai! I'm kind of new here, but I hope we can be good friends!"

  


Beomgyu senses the eyes of other students peering through his skin, eager to see his reaction towards the boy who seems to know absolutely nothing about him.

  


With gritted teeth, Beomgyu nods along, actively dismissing Hyuka and his welcoming words. He overhears the people around them whisper while Kai takes the empty seat next to his.

  


Beomgyu is taken aback, "Why are you here?"

  


Hyuka looks at him with widened eyes, surprised to hear Beomgyu's exclaim, yet his smile returns in time for his response. "I talked with Ms Lee earlier and she said no one sits here."

  


"There's tons of other seats," Beomgyu spits out, glaring, but even that seems to be inutile for Kai who relaxes on his chair, flaunting a smirk, "Yeah, but I like this one."

  


Having no one by his side was the only thing that kept Beomgyu sane throughout his last school years: Being busy avoiding people during breaks and free time, taking classes without anyone beside him was more than relieving.

  


But now, he guesses that his comfort has come to its end.

  


Teachers took advantage of him having Kai as a seatmate by pairing them up in as many projects as possible, telling them that it would be good for Beomgyu to get to know people, and Hyuka didn't seem to mind being the first one in line.

  


Though, Beomgyu did try to act against it.

  


"Did you hear what the Professor said?" Kai asks, aligning the answer sheets in front of him while Beomgyu remains nonchalant.

  


"Couldn't hear him," he replies, hands back to holding on to his notebook and overtly sketching, purposely trying to annoy Hyuka.

  


Though, the boy's smile informs Beomgyu of his useless efforts. "Ahh, okay, I'll try to ask him then!"

  


The moment Kai leaves his seat, Beomgyu's brows wrinkle, bemused with his attitude and how simple he treats Beomgyu. The elder has been striving to hit his nerve for weeks now, but not once did Hyuka sigh, nor look angered.

  


Beomgyu's view on Kai has changed since then.

  


* * *

  


"Hyung, can I have a sip?" Kai asks, his pointer finger directed to Beomgyu's glass.

  


With a shrug, Beomgyu hands it over to him, and once he sees Hyuka enjoying it, he lets out a sigh. "Kai-yah, can't we just go home?"

  


Hyuka is relaxed while taking his last gulp, yet his face is quick to turn solemn as soon as he sets the glass down. "Hyung, are you really uncomfortable?"

  


"No." Beomgyu answers, abrupt since he doesn't want Kai to take his cavil the wrong way. "It's not about you Kai... it's just–"

  


"Beomgyu hyung," The elder senses Kai's feet colliding with his, nudging them together and offering some sort of shelter. After staring below the table, Beomgyu looks up to Kai smiling at him, gentle. "Don't worry, I know."

  


Beomgyu exhales, his lips slightly stretching out to his lower cheeks.

  


As always, Hyuka knows how to talk to him

  


which makes Beomgyu regret that he never did.

  


A waitress approaches their table, handing over the set of materials to the both of them while exchanging bows. With Kai getting into some small talk and setting down the paintbrushes, Beomgyu holds up his canvas and skims over its surface.

  


It's for acrylics.

  


_Shit_ , Beomgyu curses. He has moved on to using watercolor after so many years that he barely remembers the basics of acrylic painting—or maybe he does, but is too afraid to return to something he has long abandoned.

  


Beomgyu looks at Kai, hoping that the younger would speak up or request to change the mediums; knowing that Kai is aware of his painting preferences, but as soon as the waitress leaves, the boy only smiles, leading for a sigh to leave Beomgyu's lips.

  


He has no escape from this, does he?

  


* * *

  


From partners, to acquaintances, to somehow a pair of friends that makes everyone chuckle, the whole student body has seen the growth of both boys—though, they honestly find Beomgyu's to be the most amusing: from a guy who never speaks unless needed, to a victim of Hyuka's occasional chit-chats. Beomgyu is beginning to talk on his own nowadays.

  


The view they create has always been comical—with Kai chasing Beomgyu around and Beomgyu constantly running away (ignoring his mutual interest for the younger while Kai proudly shows his), who wouldn't spare a laugh?

  


"Hyung! Wait for me!"

  


"No! Go away Kai!"

  


Hyuka lands his hand on Beomgyu's shoulder, heavy while he leans on the elder for balance.

  


Beomgyu doesn't bother moving it away, and instead turns his head slightly to reach Hyuka's form, panting. "I thought you'll go with your other friends?"

  


"Exactly!" Kai is quick to grab on to Beomgyu's wrist, his grip tight while pulling him away from the direction he's headed towards, "You should join us!"

  


"W-what?? No way! Let me go!!"

  


Beomgyu is startled, though no matter how much he uses his strength, Kai's hold on him remains stern.

  


From the many conversations he and Hyuka shared, Beomgyu has been apprised of how the younger has other friends: especially three who are drastically different from him.

  


The moment Beomgyu steps foot into the arcade, he is greeted by warm (more so, loud) welcomes.

  


"Hyuka! You're here!" Taehyun, a guy who Beomgyu has heard a lot from Kai, jogs closer and rests his hand over Hyuka's shoulder. Beomgyu feels his own stiffen.

  


Yeonjun follows, walking his way painstakingly slow that Beomgyu thinks he's creeping up on his personal space. "Hyuka, hey! You got to bring Beomgyu!"

  


The boy's head lifts up at the mention of his name.

  


"Yeah," Kai giggles. "Though I kind of forced him to come with, sorry about that hyung." Hyuka's lips tug into a smile, one that Beomgyu has admitted to be pretty for quite some time now, seeing it so many times up-close.

  


Soobin soon joins them with a heap of tokens carried by the palm of his hands. And when the boys scurry off to the game machines, Hyuka doesn't fail to look back and hold his hand out to Beomgyu, encouraging the elder to have fun with him by his side.

  


* * *

  


Beomgyu knows how inapt he is around the three of them: how he fails to be as confident as Yeonjun, as warm as Soobin, and as attentive as Taehyun. He is aware of how they are immensely popular in school grounds, and that they are able to disregard his presence whenever he sticks around with Kai, especially considering how they barely know each other and that being with Beomgyu doesn't necessarily benefit them.

  


But they don't. They even invite him to their many other parties and hangouts—and in each one, Beomgyu is able to know more about them, and so do they get to learn more about Beomgyu.

  


The whole experience is odd and new. Never did Beomgyu think that he would get to find interest in things not relating to art. He has grown to wonder what happened, how it began, what made him open up to a side of him that is more than allowing to be open about the world and the people around him.

  


Eventually, it all lead to Kai: the very boy who has his nails subtly clawed onto the noodle cup and eyes staring straight ahead at the tv screen—though, he faces Beomgyu right away once he hears the elder mention his name.

  


A few seconds after, Beomgyu exhales, "Nevermind. It's nothing."

  


"Hyung," Kai's hand tenderly slithers its way on top of Beomgyu's, the pads of his fingers caressing the elder's cold skin. "You can tell me."

  


"I... I don't know."

  


A rush of warmth hits Beomgyu's chest when Hyuka squeezes his palm.

  


Beomgyu lets in a shaky breath. "I just.. I don't know why you're doing this— or _why_ your friends are treating me this way. They... they take care of me so well even when I'm always rude."

  


"Only sometimes." Hyuka cuts him off, a smile forming on his lips while Beomgyu resorts to giggle.

  


"Especially you Kai," Beomgyu's gaze inches closer to Hyuka's, balancing between fond and fervent. "You've been really nice to me since the very beginning. And I just... want to thank you for sticking around."

  


"Of course I would. Who else would have?"

  


Both suppress a laugh.

  


Before Beomgyu could dwell on the question, Kai grips on his arm, his hold firm and reassuring. "I'm kidding, hyung. Thank you for letting me get to know you too."

  


Beomgyu's dimples grow on his cheeks. He is timid as he leans forward, resting his head right on the nook of Hyuka's neck with his eyes steadily closing.

  


* * *

  


The elder's gaze pries around Kai's side of the table: his canvas is buried in paint, strokes made hastily with an inappropriately large brush.

  


"Kai-yah, what are you painting?"

  


Beomgyu's regret hits him instantly, conscious of all the answers the younger could possibly give, and afraid of not being able to give any when he returns the question. However, Hyuka doesn't look away from his canvas, "I don't know, whatever I feel like I guess."

  


Beomgyu grows silent, in fear of initiating another conversation and lead himself into a dead end where he has no choice but to force out an answer.

  


But Kai is gentle, “Can you guess what I'm making?"

  


Beomgyu looks into the younger's painting, his neck stretching out and hands balancing his weight on the table—slow and cautious. Globs of paints were sticking out on many sides of the canvas, and most colors were mismatched; not carefully thought out, but somehow, Beomgyu could still figure out the scenery. Right away, he smiles with a pushed out sigh. "It's that tree again."

  


Kai divulges into a chuckle, "What's with your reaction? Is there something wrong with it?"

  


Beomgyu shakes his head, giggling. "No! No, but.. why are you so attached to it? It happened like.. four years ago."

  


"How could I not?" Kai lowers his head, a gentle shade of pink surfacing on his cheeks. "It was our first kiss."

  


Beomgyu chuckles, leading for Kai to stare. "We kissed plenty of times after that. What's so memorable about our first?"

  


"Just cause," Kai smiles, the wrinkles on the edges of his lips forming awkwardly. Beomgyu sees Hyuka's goofy grin and brings out a soft laugh. "You care so much about our firsts."

  


"That's cause they're special."

  


Beomgyu hums, "How so?"

  


"It just is." Hyuka smiles, more genuine than silly, and lets his focus return to his painting.

  


* * *

  


Beomgyu's feet felt dangled as he rushes to reach Kai through the grass, with leaves unduly swaying and clumps of soil scattered all over his track. "Get back here Kai!"

  


The younger looks back and sticks out his tongue, "I'm getting my free ice cream tonight!"

  


"No you're not! That's my money!"

  


"Well it's mine now!"

  


Their laughter and exclaims were heard by no one around the park. Moments ago, Hyuka had noticed the stiffening silence growing between them, so he instinctively breaks it by taking Beomgyu's wallet from his pocket and ran like there's no tomorrow. Beomgyu had probably been chasing Kai through many yards now, feeling his legs insensate and the beating of his heart drumming in his ears. He pleads, "Hyuka come on! Give it back!!"

  


Hearing Beomgyu's steps slow down, Kai turns around—his smile is both irritating and fetching, Beomgyu thinks.

  


"You're giving up so soon??"

  


"We've been running for so long! Just let me take back my wallet, please! I promise I'll treat you!"

  


The creases around Beomgyu's brows makes Kai laugh. The boy walks up to the elder. "You promised, okay? No take backs."

  


"Yeah, yeah."

  


The space between them is small, and Beomgyu glares at Hyuka as he reaches his hand out to take back his wallet, but on the last second, Kai pulls it away. "Ohohhh, what's with that look?"

  


"Kai," Beomgyu sighs. "Give it back or I won't treat you."

  


"You can't 𝘯𝘰𝘵 treat me if you don't have the money."

  


Beomgyu scoffs, soon turning into a chuckle as he jumps forward to tackle Kai, "Why you–"

  


Beomgyu grabs on to Hyuka's forearm and pulls it down so that his other hand could reach for it, but the younger was stronger; even though he was surprised, Kai manages to forcibly take his arm back and hide the wallet behind his back, but considering Beomgyu's leap, his weight pushes Kai down. Hyuka wraps his arms around Beomgyu's ribs and once his back hits the ground, he rolls Beomgyu to his side and his hold on him loosens.

  


As he was wide-eyed with the hug, Kai's groans make Beomgyu worry. "Hey, you okay?"

  


"Fine," Hyuka rushes to say, slightly stretching his back muscles while repeating "I'm fine."

  


"You sure? The crash felt rough."

  


"Yeah, it's okay. These broad shoulders can handle some tiny human's weight."

  


Beomgyu giggles, and Kai smiles at that. "M not tiny," Beomgyu mumbles.

  


"You are." Kai brushes the few strands of hair falling onto Beomgyu's face with his free hand, his fingers tickling the curves of the elder's ear. Beomgyu's shivering becomes more evident with Hyuka's whisper, "You're so pretty too."

  


Beomgyu looks up to him, gaze yielding under the flicker of Kai's lashes, the mole that nestles near the tip of his nose, the small exhales that leave his lips. Beomgyu doesn't realize he's watching the minute details until he hears Hyuka's giggle. "Hyung, stop staring."

  


"I can't," Beomgyu's breath is shaking as he inhales. "You're beautiful Kai."

  


Their hands are on top of each other. Beomgyu's palm is relaxed on the ground while the pads of Kai's fingers are cold on his skin. Hyuka's smile is peculiar—he doesn't seem to be in the same daze Beomgyu is in, nor does he seem assertive. Only when Beomgyu glances at Kai's eyes makes him notice the glint of his intentions: the younger looks around for a bit, studying the rest of the park until he meets Beomgyu's gaping look.

  


Kai's hands meet Beomgyu's cheeks. "Hyung, can I kiss you?"

  


Mindless, Beomgyu nods, letting himself fall deeper into his feeble state and indulge further into Hyuka's tiny specks of beauty—the tiny grip of his fingers around his nape, the gentle and careful manner of him leading the elder's tongue.

  


Beomgyu has adored the little things.

  
  


Until he eventually doesn't.

  


* * *

  


Kai's giggle snaps Beomgyu out of his thoughts. "Hyung, stop cheating! Focus on your own painting," He raises his canvas slightly and brings it close to his chest, acting as if it was a test paper. Beomgyu laughs as well. "Sorry, didn't notice I was looking so much."

  


Beomgyu nibbles on his lower lip, compelling himself to keep his eyes on his painting and avoid Kai's supple gaze—Beomgyu knows what that look meant, Kai always wears it right before they get themselves into a serious episode.

  


But somehow, nowadays, things between them have been calming down. "I think white suits that," Kai points out, directing Beomgyu to stare for a few seconds before he lets out a chuckle. "Oh. Yeah, I guess it does."

  


Beomgyu could see Hyuka's frown while he looks at him, then at his side of the table: there's a blue paint bottle, supposedly in the shade of cobalt, with its lid barely open.

  


Kai has watched Beomgyu paint more than enough times to know that recently, he's not being his usual self.

  


So the younger continues to nudge him, "Don't you think white is a bit plain with blue?"

  


"I guess," Beomgyu mutters, slowly getting anxious of the way their conversation is leading into.

  


Noticing the elder's rigid hands under the table, Kai takes a step back and breathes before he continues, "What's my favorite color hyung?"

  


Beomgyu blinks, "Uh." _Shit, I have to answer this right._

  


"There's no right answer." Beomgyu looks up, feeling his heart jump upon hearing Kai's consolation and seeing the faint grin that rests on his lips. "What do you mean..? Didn't you like red?"

  


"Yeah, but that isn't my fave."

  


"Then... what is?"

  


"Whatever you choose." His smile this time is wider, and Beomgyu can't help but chuckle at his words. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  


"It means," Kai leans forward, his elbows on the edge of the table to make sure that Beomgyu hears him. "You make every color my favorite, hyung."

  


Beomgyu's jaw doesn't move. His gaze speedily runs back and forth Hyuka's eyes, and doesn't manage to say a word until a hiccup pushes a sound out of lips.

  


Kai laughs, and Beomgyu brings his hands up to his mouth, failing to stop his body from jumping every now and then. Though, seeing how much Kai is enjoying the view makes Beomgyu chortle.

  


He sighs with a smile.

  


* * *

  


His lips are cracked and his hands are sore.

  


The brush that coiled under his fingers were made of ice, and his eyes were carrying the weight of many sleepless nights that he spent painting the same portrait over, and over, and over, and over…

  


“Hyung, it’s me,” Kai makes his presence known while dangerously stepping into Beomgyu’s room, more so his studio where not a single sense of ease or home were to be found. The mattress of his bed has become a safe haven for all of his paint tubes to reside in, scraps of paper and incoherent canvases were thoughtlessly set aside deep beneath his closet, and the paltry tower of laundry remains at the edge of his room for its second month now. Hyuka enters further, and Beomgyu doesn’t speak.

  


Both ends of Kai’s lips tug downward, but the boy does his best to pull them up, knowing the sight would only upset Beomgyu. “I brought some juice. It has some ice so it’s better to drink them sooner than later,” he tells Beomgyu, even when he is fully aware that he isn’t listening and would very much leave it alone on the table, letting the cubes melt until the drink tastes bland—Kai would know after the many times he finished it for him, feeling like it would be too much of a waste to throw them away.

  


In most days, Kai would rectify his form from leaning forward to the table and walk away. He would return to his own room and leave Beomgyu to his own, giving the space he thought the elder had always needed. He’d silently listen to Beomgyu’s excruciating screams of outrage and displeasure, and let the sound of thrown-away canvases echo against the walls and reach up to his own room. But after a handful of months, Hyuka thinks he can no longer stand it.

  


So he stays. His legs swiftly push himself to sit on the fairly little space on the bed and he bends forward to watch Beomgyu’s hand remain frozen on his lap, the tiny bit of paint drying on the brush’s toe.

  


Beomgyu notices the change in Kai’s routine, but he doesn’t say anything.

  


With the elder staying put for a minute or so, Hyuka’s eyes wander past the few tossed out sketches on the floor, including the unbothered residue of paint that is splattered around the loose hem of his shorts. “These are nice,” Hyuka whispers. “Too bad they weren’t finished.”

  


Beomgyu is still, not bothering to side-eye Kai as he hears the boy lift a tattered page from one of his severed notebooks off the floor. Hyuka exhales, subtly whistling. “Your art style has changed so much,” he grins. “You used to draw people like cartoons. It was pretty cute.”

  


“They were disproportionate.”

  


Beomgyu lowers his head, staring at his paintbrush and proceeding with the silence he had kept since before Kai came in.

  


“Well, I thought they were good,” Kai softly smiles. “Still do.”

  


He picks up another page, one that is less rugged, but the shapes and forms that took up the space are innumerable—some would even say illegible. “This looks unique,” Hyuka comments, one that Beomgyu takes differently. “I know, it’s odd.”

  


“Kinda,” Kai tilts his head, eyes diving deeper into the discarded artwork. “But it’s nothing harmful.”

  


“It’s offensive,” Beomgyu spits out. “Each shape has a different style. The volumes of the brushstrokes don’t match. It looks like one whole color from afar and so muddy up close.”

  


“So it’s made up of different things! It’s quirky and imaginative and–”

  


“Inconsistent.” Beomgyu _corrects_ , and Kai isn’t exactly happy to hear it—the elder could hear the roughly muted sigh that leaves his nibbled-on lips.

  


Hyuka does what he can to straighten his back and stand up from the bed, having second thoughts on whether or not he should approach Beomgyu even further, but once he does so, he fails to stop his voice from trembling. “Beomgyu hyung.”

  


“Just leave Kai,” Beomgyu wanted to say as a suggestion, but it comes out as an order.

  


“I want to stay.” Kai takes a step. “I’ll be quiet from now on. I’ll watch you do your work and–”

  


“I don’t want you to watch me.”

  


Beomgyu doesn’t turn, but Kai could tell he was agitated–from the painted white knuckles displayed against the dark tone of his brush handle, to the bulked up cheek built by his clenched teeth. Offending his sense of judgement, Hyuka takes another step. "But I want to, hyung. You let me watch you before, how come you don't allow me anymore?"

  


"It's only right for me not to," Beomgyu's gaze softens, hazily observing the floor. "My art isn't worth watching."

  


Hyuka's foot stops mid step. Then, he retrieves it. Kai wants to form a fist and stomp his feet, he wants to scream and scold Beomgyu for thinking of such a thing, he wishes that he could just grab Beomgyu's shoulders and force the mentality out of his system, make the elder proud of his art and willingly let him see it once more, just like before.

  


But he knows this has swelled through time. No matter how mad Kai would be, Beomgyu's thinking perseveres in standing its ground, with its range widespread all over his head.

  


So, Hyuka's approach becomes gentle. And a side of Kai that Beomgyu has learned to love and hate makes its appearance, "Hyung, it's _your_ art. You get to say if you like it or not."

  


"But I don't–" his wavering voice intervenes. "I don't like it. I _can't_ like it. There's so many wrong things about it, and it's a whole menace to the community. If only I could just.. not go through the step-by-step and learn it overnight, maybe I'd be an artist everyone admires. The growing process is just so hard. It's been years, and I can't see anything else but bits and pieces of mistakes I can't get rid of. I'm supposed to be better now. I _should_ be better. But I just can't.. I _can't_."

  


Beomgyu looks up at Kai, eyes brimming with tears and hands shaking as it lightly tries to hold on to one another. "I'm _not_ better Kai. I'm tired of painting everyday and waiting to find a masterpiece that can boost my entire esteem and be my beginning as a true artist. I'm sick of reading through notes and studying techniques over and over again even when I can't fully put it into practice."

  


A tear slides along his cheek, down to his chin, and dragging its way to his neck, landing on the woolen surface of his shirt. "I'm _failing_ Kai. I'm.. not the artist I used to be. I don't even know if I _was_ an artist to begin with. Maybe it'll be worth my time quitting now before I continue to make a fool out of myself–"

  


"Hyung, you _loved_ this," Kai reminds him. "You enjoyed art. You aren't being a fool for making mistakes, you'd be a fool if you don't learn from them."

  


“But I’m _not_ learning!” Beomgyu tries to force out a shout, his shoulders raised and knees shaking, losing its strength bit by bit, but his voice remains weak. “I’m not.. I’m…” His breathing is rapid, and the tears that are adjourned around the rim of his eyes fall altogether. With hesitant feet, Kai walks forward, holding out his hands to be ready for when Beomgyu acts upon his growing anguish.

  


Carefully, Kai settles his palm over Beomgyu’s nape, coaxing him into leaning forward and letting his embrace thaw his cold demeanor. The tears drop on his shoulder one by one, but all Hyuka could feel were Beomgyu’s fingers, shaking as it clings onto the fabric of his shirt. “Hyung, I’m here.” Kai exhales, his words flowing so naturally with the wind that kisses Beomgyu’s ear.

  


Beomgyu feels the pressure on his chest augmenting, pushing himself to nuzzle his lips near Kai’s neck, allowing himself to take slow breaths as Kai continues to skim through his hair. “I know I don’t know much about art,” Kai mumbles, dithering along his first words while deciding on what to say. But noticing how he can’t come up with a conclusion, he chooses to spill out whatever comes to mind.

  


Right or wrong, Kai feels that all Beomgyu needs is sincerity.

  


“I’m not an art student like you. I go by my days listening to music and attending maybe too many concerts. I sometimes go to Taehyun’s house and stay for a while to support his and hyungs’ band practices. And you already know this, but there’s been so many times where I regret telling them that I prefer living in my comfort zone instead of pursuing music with them.” Beomgyu sharply inhales. Following the elder’s strong pull on his shirt, Kai meekly tilts forward and chuckles.

  


Then, his glum look returns. “Which is why I admire you so much hyung. Every time I see you do your art, it makes me wish that I did the same with mine. I wish I told Yeonjun hyung that I'd love to join them in making songs. I wish I held Soobin hyung back before he left after asking me so many times if I really wouldn’t want to join. I wish… I wish I told Taehyun the truth when he told me that he thinks I’m hurting every time I see them be passionate about writing and preparing themselves to perform on stage.”

  


“You can still join them,” Beomgyu’s voice cracks, gulping before he resumes. “It’s not too late. And they’re your friends, they’ll accept you any time you tell them you want to be a part of their band.”

  


Beomgyu lets his gaze rest on Kai’s subtle smile, slowly frowning as the younger shakes his head. “I don’t have the courage to do music anymore. I’ve lost touch after trying to push it away for so long. But _you_ hyung–” Kai’s eyes form crescents. “You’ve been pursuing art. You’ve been letting yourself do what you love, even when you know there’s a risk of falling out of it.”

  


“But I don’t know if the risk was worth it.” Beomgyu ducks his head, not wanting Kai to see the shame written all over his mien. “I used to like this Kai. I get so happy whenever I make something. I become proud of myself when my efforts can be seen in my works. But now.. now I’m just trying to manage.”

  


“Then don’t manage hyung,” Kai mutters before Beomgyu says another word. “Let yourself do what you want. Let yourself fail and start over–”

  


“I don’t want to fail!” Beomgyu’s exclaim nearly pulls him out of Hyuka’s embrace, but the younger steadies himself, his hands gentle around Beomgyu’s waist while he begins to take slow breaths. “I’ve been failing for so many times… I don’t want to fail any longer.”

  


“Failing doesn’t have limits, but so does finding strength.” Kai smoothly slides his palm back and forth over Beomgyu’s hip. There’s silence. Not uncomfortable, not peaceful either. It’s just quiet, and Beomgyu basks in the bliss after years of self mental torment.

  


He asks, “What if.. What if I lose strength?”

  


Beomgyu can’t bring himself to look up, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle the flickering sorrow in Kai’s stare. He feels too guilty of letting the very person who believed in him know that he doesn’t believe in himself anymore.

  


“What if I can’t do it? What if I dig myself a hole too deep that I can’t pull myself out?”

  


His eyes are open. Beomgyu restrains himself from letting the tears fall once more. He doesn’t want Hyuka’s shirt to be soaked even more than it already is—all he lets himself do is stand there, lifeless, with his worn out state being enveloped within Kai’s warmth.

  


Beomgyu’s subtly expectant eyes follow Kai’s gaze, curved and clement. “I’ll pull you up hyung,” he says, teeth slowly showing. “I’m here if you need me. You have my support.”

  


“But I..” Beomgyu mutters, interfering. He takes his arms away from Kai’s waist, dragging them back to his sides and tugging on to the stitches at the end of his shirt. Hyuka’s hands around him were firm, keeping him close after so many months of giving him space, but he lets Beomgyu move away, deciding that another moment of detachment wouldn’t hurt. He lets him breathe. He hears him out. “I’m not that great of an artist, why would you support me?”

  


The room is emptied of words for a moment. Kai weakly digs his nail to his thumb, knowing that Beomgyu isn’t asking, but moreover trying to confirm what he already thinks. Compliments won’t do, he’d let them slide, not even giving it a second-thought. He can’t let himself get close to him, the last thing he wants is for Beomgyu to move further away from him. He doesn’t want to push him to the edge. Exposing his emotions like this in front of Kai after keeping quiet for so long must’ve cost him so much discomfort and guilt.

  


Now that he sees Beomgyu show his feelings like this.. Kai is sad, and hurt to know that he wasn’t mistaken with the elder’s troubles. But for the most part, Kai is glad. Hearing Beomgyu open up and free all of his worries from the cage of his inner self, allowing Kai to listen after months, nearly a year, of keeping it in—Kai could never be more than happy. He’s finally letting himself breathe.

  


And with a smile, he holds Beomgyu’s hand, “You don’t have to prove yourself to me.”

  


Kai bites on his lip, quick, stopping himself from hugging the elder for the second time. “Seeing you happy is more than enough.”

  


He brings his other palm forward, passing by the gap between them, and Kai gently clasps all of Beomgyu’s fingers under his touch. He lets the space stay, but he reaches out, not wanting Beomgyu to think that he’s on his own.

  


“You’re my artist, hyung.”

  


He’s here. Even when Beomgyu finds comfort in his own, he’ll always find ways to be here.

  


* * *

  


The plastic container in Beomgyu’s hand is compact, the color of the paint is cloudy, and the light reflecting off of the surface makes him slightly dizzy.

  


"Hyung, you okay?"

  


Beomgyu hears muffled clanging as Kai sets his brush down, its tip resting on a tissue beside his canvas. The elder blinks, then fully turns his attention to Hyuka, "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

  


"You just dozed off," He tells Beomgyu with a slight pout. "I thought you were.. you know, thinking about some stuff again."

  


"Oh," Beomgyu's hands became still, but he swiftly loosens up, chuckling to not worry Kai. "Yeah, I guess I was."

  


And upon hearing that, Kai looks down. "Sorry hyung."

  


Beomgyu's brows wrinkle, watching the younger take a deep breath. He contemplates on whether or not he should speak up on how there's nothing to be sorry about, yet Kai beats him to it, resuming, "You only opened up to me a month ago, but now I'm pushing you to paint so suddenly.. I didn't even ask if you were ready. I just brought you here without thinking of how you would feel and–"

  


"Kai," Beomgyu's voice is low, and the way he uttered his name was slow, but Hyuka's attention was quick to be caught. He raises his head, listening. "If you told me we would be going here, you know I would've never moved out of bed,” He jokes with a smile. And Kai’s shoulders relax, just a bit.

  


“You gave me more than enough time Kai, pushing me like this is… okay”

  


Kai’s eyes twinkled, like the dying flame of his pride is gaining its strength back. He faces Beomgyu and nods, languid, unsure, mutely asking if he meant what he said.

  


And Beomgyu does. He nods back, and Kai deeply inhales as he adjusts his seat. “Oh thank god,” he mumbles, leading for Beomgyu to let out a shy grin.

  


Silence comes across them, letting the other customers’ conversations blend in with their hushed thoughts and dazed stares. Kai looks down at his painting for a couple of seconds, not necessarily paying attention, but in need of something to distract himself while he pulls his head back together—right before he could look at Beomgyu.

  


The elder has his wrist lightly pressed against the table, and his once easy fingers tense up, tugging itself forward to reach the bottle of paint, the pads of his two tallest fingers faintly touching the tepid heat of the container.

  


Kai’s eyes are on Beomgyu’s, discerning, curious, worried. His courage is flickering in every blink, and Kai supposes it's his call to speak, “Are you going to use that hyung?”

  


Beomgyu’s head shoots up, forgetting that he wasn’t the only one on the table and that there was someone else who uses the paint. Seeing how the elder takes a good look of his smile, Kai’s cheeks grow plump, happy that Beomgyu wasn’t aware of his intention: he didn’t really need the paint, but he _did_ need Beomgyu to admit that _he_ needs it.

  


The fringe of his lips twitch before saying what Hyuka wants to hear, “Yeah, just a moment.”

  


Kai nods, playing along and taking another bottle instead, “I think I can do the other parts first,” he reasons, but Beomgyu doesn’t really take note of it—his eyes too focused on his hand, then his fingers, then to the cap of the paint.

  


Kai could feel Beomgyu's gaze actually unwinding it open, twisting it around, dipping his brush, and dragging said brush to the canvas. Hyuka's eyes pierce Beomgyu's hand, watching it hesitate as it moves back and forth between opening and avoiding it.

  


He discerns Beomgyu’s face carefully before suggesting, “Open it, hyung.”

  


And at this point on, Beomgyu becomes aware of how Kai can see through him. He heaves a sigh, whispering as if he doesn’t want an answer, “Should I?”

  


Beomgyu can see Kai’s smile—even when he’s looking at the table, gaze stuck on the blank canvas and fingers weakly holding on to the very end of his brush, dithering through his choices and not bothering to settle down his thoughts, the wrinkles around Kai’s eyes falls light against Beomgyu’s chest, tending to his trembling torso and rushing heart.

  


His ribs feel even more hooked when Hyuka bows, cueing for him to gulp, sharply, before he rotates the cap off.

  


While Kai, on the surface, looks warm and composed, he’s just as nervous deep down as Beomgyu. The elder suspects that his heart is thumping loud enough for the people in the nearest tables to hear it, so he doesn’t try to hide his tense neck and shaking arms from the boy in front of him as he continues to open the bottle.

  


Hyuka’s smile is quivering, and his toes are curled beneath his shoes. He’s watching Beomgyu doing the unspeakable: facing his anxiety, with him—who he once hid it from—as his audience. Kai feels his ribs constrict, both celebrating Beomgyu’s courageous steps, and in fear of his huge stepback if he backs out. Feeling the need to keep things steady, Kai calls for him, “Hyung.”

  


Beomgyu forces a hum from his parched throat. With the paint on his one hand, and the brush on the other, he sets them down while growing expectant of what Kai has to say.

  


“Don’t mind the others. It’s just us in this table, okay?”

  


The elder’s gaze waver, flipping side by side between Kai’s eyes, and occasionally following the movements of his lips. Intently listening.

  


“This isn’t for anyone hyung. Not for those who like your art, not for me who’s here with you. It’s your step to take. Don’t force yourself if you’re still not ready, okay?”

  


“I..” Beomgyu breathes, hasty and incomplete, as if he wants Kai to hear him out before he could say any more. “I… think I’m ready. Just, still a bit scared I guess.” He laughs, sounding both genuine and forced. Kai feels himself giggling along, and he lets himself do so, knowing it would help calm the elder’s nerves.

  


“You can be scared, hyung.” Hyuka assures, his firm tone contrasting his almost silent voice. “Don’t expect yourself to face it in just a day. You can take your time, but just know that.. this step matters. And when you take it, you’ll know how much stronger you’ve gotten compared to before.”

  


Beomgyu bites his lips, hiding a shy smile of uncertainty and gratefulness towards the younger’s words. He nods along, repeating what he said in his head as he talks to himself, convincing his fears to get over it and let himself raise his brush off the table.

  


The tip is already nestling atop the rim of the bottle, with few of its strands flicking through the lower half of the opening. Along with slow breaths, Beomgyu stares at the rich blue, shining against the bright lights of the cafe.

  


He isn’t sure of when he started painting, but he does remember one of his earliest memories of holding a brush. The handle is cold, fresh from the air conditioned mall, with a scent that attests to it being newly packaged. Unlike his strained hold on his brush now, he had waved it around, subtly trying out strokes and letting it feel comfortable around his fingers. He recalls the wide smile and loud ‘thank you’s he voiced out to his mother when she bought it home as a surprise—hiding it along the grocery bags so young Beomgyu wouldn’t suspect anything when she asks him to pick a meal for dinner.

  


With the ghost of his muscle memory tickling his hand, Beomgyu’s lips twitch, tempted to curl and let out a grin.

  


He thinks back to when he first used the brush: he had just watched a show and immediately fell for the plot, so he decides it would be best to indulge in through his art—make a commemoration of his adoration. Compared to how he is right now, his very first strokes were bold and eager. He didn’t mind making any mistakes, all he wanted to see was how the paint looked when placed upon the woven fabric.

  


Beomgyu laughs, silently praising his younger self and asking how he did it.

  


Not wanting to stretch out the edge of the air any further, the elder looks up to Kai, whose eyes are keen and avid on Beomgyu’s inner battle. They share a silent conversation, a series of inaudible assurances and encouragements, which reminds Beomgyu of when he had been called to present his– well, his and his partner, Kai’s project in front of the class. He felt uneasy, worried of how it would go since it was his first time to speak for not only his, but someone else’s grade.

  


His legs wobbled, and he nearly backed out of the task at hand, but Hyuka’s palm was warm on top of his thigh. “You’ll do well, hyung,” he tells him with a smile. “It’ll be okay.”

  


Now that he’s looking at the same person, he can practically hear the kind words, feel the pats on his back, and starting from when they got together, the chaste kisses placed among his skin: from his forehead, while brushing away the strands of his hair, to his very own lips, with the plump cushions hugging his own.

  


Though there has been a growing maturity between them, the fond feeling stays the same. It may have been overbearing at times, but Beomgyu admits how Kai’s affinity keeps him grounded, how it helps him think and gain composure after going through a mental breakdown, how it lifts him up when he continuously pushes himself down.

  


Kai had always been the one who steadies him—when he goes through an art block, when he panics with not reaching the due date, when he questions whether or not he should keep doing art, Kai was always there.

  


So Beomgyu supposes it’s time for him to be there for himself.

  


He can hear his younger self’s exclaims of joy when he managed to finish a project, when he had received his very first commission, the shy beaming smiles when his classmates complimented his work, the many dizzying bows he gave to his teachers when they offered him genuine responses and opinions.

  


Beomgyu dips the brush into the paint, and he could almost smell his old room at his family’s house, exuberant from the numerous projects and works he had created, placed all over his space where the scent of charcoal, rubber, and dye leaked through.

  


He whirls the bristles around the bottle, getting rid of the excess while feeling giddy from Kai’s knowing grin. The beating of Beomgyu’s heart is familiar to when he had brought Kai home, needing to work on a task together, but the elder ended up being pushed by Kai to show him how he does his paintings—he did his best to hide it, but apparently chucking it into the very back of the cabinet is useless since he didn’t have that much clothes anyway.

  


The adoration in Kai’s eyes that day was a sight Beomgyu later tried to draw in his notebook, but not one sketch fit the glow and warmth Kai exuded.

  


Beomgyu takes the brush away and lets it close in on the canvas. Hyuka’s gaze grows sharp, and Beomgyu shifts his relaxed form into focus. His elbow leans on the table, wanting his shoulders and hands to repose as he steadily moves forward, tilting his torso just enough for his legs to comfortably cling onto each other, and his back to not feel so strained. 

  


Series of spurs run around Beomgyu’s head as he moves closer, and closer, and closer. And the moment he felt the tip of his brush hit the canvas, Beomgyu’s breath hitches. ‘I’m doing it,’ his eyes widen as the realization taps onto his chest, growing rapid, fervid. Beomgyu pushes on a little further, and the paint smears onto the fabric, showing evidence of how half of the belly had met the surface.

  


“You did it hyung!” Kai’s smile knows no bounds, cheeks high enough for Beomgyu to think that it will definitely hurt when this moment is over. Kai claps with his palms, not wanting to cause so much of a scene, but wanting to congratulate Beomgyu in any way he can, and the elder laughs at his effort—seeing Hyuka trying to keep quiet while fully knowing that all he wants to do is shout praises feels like a punch to his tickle bone.

  


After a while of cramped smiles and bouncing on sofas, an exhale leaves Beomgyu’s lips, making a minute silence before Hyuka tells him once again, “Beomgyu hyung, you did it.”

  


Beomgyu laughs, “It’s just one stroke, nothing huge.”

  


“No but, this _is_ huge!!”

  


Beomgyu ducks his head before finding himself chortle even more, especially with the way Kai resembles a ‘lost, but found’ kid. “Yeah, I guess..” Beomgyu admits softly before letting out an ampled smile of his own. He can’t believe it took him nearly months to just.. paint a single line that has no sense or meaning.

  


But a voice insists Beomgyu that it does have meaning, that it shows his very first steps into setting his anxiety aside and starting fresh from his clammy shackles, that he had gathered every bit of his courage to do his first stroke after months of steering clear from any canvas and paint, that he had looked back to how he was back then and thought of how wonderful it would be to fall for art again.

  


Maybe all he had to take was time, maybe he only needed patience, maybe he had to appreciate the sentiment of remembering how you were in the past and if your reason for doing what you love still stands.

  


Maybe all he needed was a change of perspective. A change of paint.

  


**Author's Note:**

> oof, icb this took me 2 and a half months to write (my motivation buffers a lot ૮ ◞ ◟ ა )


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